The Vain Blond and the Mushy Brunet
by witch-annie
Summary: Just a fluffy, romantic scene between Harry and Draco that I wrote when I was happy and wanted everyone else to be. A tad OOC, but...


It was dark when Harry returned from the Ministry. The full moon was a golden Galleon in the velvety, black sky, myriads of stars littering the flawless surface. The warm summer breeze played with the curtains, and it was abnormally quiet. No chattering people on the London streets, no cars or sirens, no loud music. Just quiet – and so tranquil.

He opened the door into the small bedroom as carefully as it was possible. His lover was asleep, white-blond hair strewn over the pillow, a book in his elegant, long-fingered hands, chest falling and rising regularly with deep breathing.

Smiling a little, Harry took off his jeans and shirt, and climbed into a long t-shirt. He looked into the floor-long mirror, examining himself critically. His tanned face was gaunt and there were dark circles under his eyes – remnants of eh many sleepless nights he spent in the office. But his hair was still black and unruly, and the scar on his forehead was as clear as ever. There were others scars too – a reddish one on his cheek from that recent encounter with a half-dozen Deatheaters, and many on his hands and body. He'd got used to them – all Aurors were marked in this way.

He sat down on the bed. Draco turned in his sleep, nuzzling closer to Harry. The brunet smiled once more, but there was sadness in that smile.

Carefully, he moved his lover aside, and then slid under the blanket. His hands went around Draco's slender waist, locking at the base of his back. There were scars on the satin skin – the blond bore marks too, much like Harry.

Harry kissed Draco gently, just next to the mouth – and the former Slytherin awoke.

'Hey,' he said, drowsily, 'what time is it?'

'One AM,' Harry replied.

Draco groaned and dug his face into Harry's chest.

'I'm gonna kill Arthur,' came muffled words, 'for keeping you at work so late.'

'I don't mind,' Harry said, kissing Draco's hair, 'how was your day?'

'Alright, I suppose. I got all the paperwork done – finally.'

'Thats good. Hermione's been asking when you're gonna have it in.'

'I don't think pregnancy is doing that woman well,' Draco complained, 'I know she's the youngest ever Head of the Department of Mysteries, but honestly, the way she's been getting off at everyone...'

'We heard it in the Aurors' Office.'

'Hmm. Bet you did. But its Sunday tomorrow. What are we going to do?'

'Drake,' Harry said sadly, pulling Draco closer, locking him in a fiercely loving embrace, 'I have to work...'

Draco sat up abruptly, unabashed of his nakedness. Harry was – as usually – taken aback by the pure perfection of his lover's body. Alabaster-white skin, a deceiving slenderness under which was hard muscle and great physical strength. A body honed by the years of Quidditch, and yet it remained so elegant. But the big opal eyes, rimmed with almost femininely-long lashes, looked at Harry with sadness and disappointment.

'Drake, I know I swore we were going to spend the anniversary together. But Arthur wants us all there. There are too little Aurors left, you know that. We lost the Patils a week ago, and Luna, Seamus and Fleur this week alone,' there was a bitterness in Harry's voice he could not hide – the pain fo the loss of his friends was still too raw. 'There are killing us off one by one, Drake. Arthur is talking about uniting all the Departments in one last attack.'

'I heard,' Draco said, lying back down, 'its just that... I'm so afraid. Afraid of losing you, losing you after it cost me so much to gain your love...' Draco was lost for a moment in the memory of the night he refused to join Voldemort, the night when the Deatheaters tortured the elder Malfoys in an attempt to find out where Draco was. It was a year ago, and yet Draco mourned their deaths still – no matter how bad parents they were, they did not give him in.

He remembered fleeing to the Burrow – where else could he go? Harry was there an hour later, with kisses and embraces and words of comfort. They lay together that night – all that Draco needed then was silence, and the knowledge that someone was there for him.

Suddenly, Harry burst out laughing.

'What?' Draco raised an eyebrow, his beautiful face bemused.

'Ron -' Harry managed.

Draco chucked. He knew what Harry meant – it was that very night when Ron walked in the room to check on Harry, only to find his best friend and Draco engaged in some serious kissing. It was not the way Harry had wanted everyone to find out (and everyone did - Ron shouted very loudly), but now they looked back at that episode with humour.

'Could've been worse,' Draco remarked, as Harry took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. 'If he'd come in a few minutes later.'

'He just doesn't understand.'

'Lots of people don't,' Draco said gently, 'but you know I love you, and I know you love me. Thats all that matters, isn't it?'

'Its just so frustrating sometimes, Drake. Like, I hear people talking behind my back, and I know what they are discussing. Yesterday Arthur himself looked at me and said "I always wished to see you marry a nice girl".'

'What did you expect, Harry? That the whole world will just accept us?'

'No, I didn't. But is it too much to hope for at least some understanding? It isn't fair.'

'Lots of things aren't. Now, rant boy, enough complaining,' Draco gave Harry a lingering kiss, and when they surfaced for air, said – 'mm... been waiting for that all day. Now, since you woke me up, I'm gonna take advantage of the early hours of morning. I promise you wont get much sleep.'

Harry laughed, his dark mood vanishing to be replaced by one of sheer joy.

'We're having a meeting tomorrow. If Hermi'll be talking, I can sleep,' Harry said in a mock-thoughtful way.

As Draco bent for yet another kiss, Harry thought that no matter what, he would not swap the vain, sarcastic, spoilt, critical blond Prince of Slytherin for anyone in the world. They were, despite all the hardships and trials and pain and misunderstanding and sorrow, happy, and the deep bonds of love would hold them forever.

'You are mushy,' Draco murmured, sliding on top of Harry. 'And I am not vain.'

'Hey,' Harry furrowed his eyebrows, 'I thought we agreed no Legilemency.'

Draco snickered.

'You had the most enticing face, Harry. I just had to know what you were thinking about. And since we are on the subject of romance...'

Draco suddenly looked hesitant – even nervous. It was strange for Harry, who'd never seen the blond like this before.

'What is it?' Harry asked.

Draco rummaged under his pillow, then extracted a clutched fist.

'Drake?' Harry said.

'I wanted to,' Draco said, sitting up and puling Harry up into a sitting position too, 'well, ask you to marry me.'

He opened his fist and Harry saw the most breathtaking ring he ever saw. It was a band of white gold, with a small red dragon in set into it.

'I'm never gonna top that,' Harry said, tears welling in his eyes.

'So...' Draco bit his lip.

'So, yes, of course, you idiot!' Harry laughed, throwing his hands around Draco's neck. 'Yes, yes, yes!'

A wave of relief washed over Draco's face, and Harry thought that if eh had to create a Patronus now, it would destroy every single Dementor that ever walked the earth.


End file.
